I've been here before

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I've been here before,

a thousand years ago,

when the stone went un-carven,

that block beneath my feet,

and the ashes that dwell,

beneath the tiles' teeth,

fell like snow from factory's greed.

All my hands, the oils,

old and ancient,

touched these walls,

smeared them in me.

The heave of my step,

ground down the paths,

that you mucked over.

All the wind, I was her too,

once was me,

thousands of men,

thousands of me,

stepping, trodding,

the world awoke,

in all the years,

trotting not along side,

but with.

I am the me who was we,

who was here,

to feel this street,

so familiar,

so distant.

I feel I've been here before,

and now I meet,

an old me,

who smiled at this street,

dancing 'neath this sun,

he knew something,

that only I feel,

an itching, a space,

a memory in my bones,

of a place-like a blanket,

where even the shadows' cradle you home,

and neighbours knew and he did too,

all the names, all the gossip,

every chatter along the line,

all the flops and failures,

every shred of disgrace,

the longest of histories,

between the shortest of walks,

things were small then,

and all the world was too.

Too simple.

For he craved the sea,

the thin blue line,

looking to a future,

a thousand years before.

Now, I'm stepping back,

touching the walls, savouring the shadows,

for a breath, an inch,

of something that felt like home.

But I am not he.

No one smiles at me,

I get lost in the avenues.

All the gossip is mum.

All his neighbours see a stranger in me,

someone lost, a foreigner.

I've been here before, but maybe not,

Maybe I'm just grasping at the shadows.

Drowning in my own deceit,

for how could one wade,

through a thousand years of time?

An ocean is but drops,

but time is eternal.

I've been here before, but I . . .

got lost in time.

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